Brigits Flame: Week 1 Entry: Topic-- Instep
Entry for Brigits Flame this week.
The Song of Clacking Beetle
In the village where I come from, what’s worn on the feet foretells your status. The poorest in my village, who have no shoes, will often bind their feet with woven grasses or pieces of tied-together bamboo. Other of my people have chosen to go barefoot, racing through the streets in a blur of nut-brown legs. Before his assassination, our emperor was known to wear extravagant gold bracers and long, elegant suede boots lined with hammered silver. But those were stories I never believed.
As Clacking Beetle, the daughter of the village’s medicine man and firstborn of Bilhah, the eldest woman in our village, I belonged to a family that was wealthy enough that I could afford to buy a pair of wooden sandals. Father had told me I must first wait until I showed womanly blood before such a purchase was possible. Otherwise, my small feet would grow far too quickly for such an extravagance.
I took pride that I earned the money for those sandals myself. Since I could walk, I worked as my father’s apprentice, saving everything I earned while Father taught me mysteries of magic and strange medicines in his bamboo tent. I was his ablest student, learning faster than all my sisters and brothers. Even before I’d come of age, Father would send me off to heal others on my own during the night.
One especially long night of gasps, smoke, and afterbirth ended with my saving the lives of a cobbler’s wife and child from the castle nearby. His gratitude, plus my life’s savings, were just enough for a secondhand pair of carved wooden sandals that were three sizes too large. The sight of them in my hands took my breath away- this was the first tree wood I’d ever seen.
When I returned home with the sandals, Father was furious with me. I hung my head as he lectured, but it was only to hang my hair over my smile. I knew that my father loved me best of all, and that he would forgive me in time. As soon as he left me alone, I ran outside and put my sandals on, stuffing the extra space around the leather straps with sowthisle grass. I embarrassed my father by proudly tromping through the village for many days, carefully avoiding the big mud puddles in the center of the village. Each night, I polished the dark, carved wood with mint oil. I loved them so much that I’d almost named them.
It wasn’t until I was much older and taller, having already grown into my sandals properly, that I learned to regret my foolish spending. The times after my purchase had been lean ones, and I never knew the wealth of my childhood again. Mother, who’d grown weak with old age, was stung at the well one morning by a jeweled mantis, and she’d laid there the entire morning before we found her. The toxins had spread quickly from the instep of her foot upwards through her leg, leaving swollen, purple veins. There was but two cures: to remove the leg, or to create a medicine to save her. One ingredient for the medicine-- the skin of a phoenix toad-- was exceptionally rare and expensive. Father and I knew well that my old mother could never survive the loss of her leg.
The next morning, the village mourned her death even as she lived. Men and women came to pay their condolences to her face, and my poor mother grew fearful and angry with them. I soon lost my temper, and, grabbing a length of bamboo, I chased them, screaming, from our tent. I cursed the ground around our home, and the villagers knew to stay away.
Without the villagers to rouse mother, she grew very pale, and neither Father’s magic nor his medicine would help. Father's spirit seemed to pass with her, and he curled into a ball beside her bed, tucking his head into his long hands. All of our family’s wealth together was not enough to make the medicine we needed, and while no one spoke of it, I burned with shame for the sandals on my feet. For their comfort, I knew my mother would die.
I was still young enough that I believed there was nothing in the world so powerful as Father’s quiet magic, except perhaps my own. It was with this belief in mind that that evening, when our tent was quiet, save for the grunts and wheezing breaths of Mother, that I decided I must act. I knew it was my time.
I brought forth a long stick of cinnamon, and I wrapped one hair around it from my mother, father, and younger brother, who still lived with us. Humming magic words softly to myself, I built a small fire out of mango leaves, and placed the end of the cinnamon into the blaze. For as long as it burned, I knew, even Father would be bound to his sleep. Father had taught me well.
Taking Father’s special satchel and bamboo cane, I stole away from our village, making my way for the castle. One way or the other, I’d decided, I would return with a cure for my mother. Father had always taught me you couldn’t kill a thief with goodness, and I believed it.
The road was long that night, and the way was dark, but I had Father’s satchel by my side and his wisdom in my heart. Humming again, I placed a piece of nutmeg in my mouth and raised up Father’s cane. One by one, small lights- fireflies- appeared in the darkness, flitting around me and covering the surface of the cane. The fireflies protected me by sharing their light and flying in the eyes of predators who grinned at me from the shadows In return, I cursed the bats who swooped to eat them, and I released them from my charm before the journey made them too tired to go on. I traveled this way by night for two days, sleeping as the nighttime predators did and staying safely away from other travelers.
On the third night, the fires of the castle loomed ahead. The walls of the castle were taller, harder, and mightier than anything I’d ever seen; the sight of them made me shake. I released my lantern guides and spat out my nutmeg, knowing that no beast would ever dare come near such a terrible thing. My legs shook, and for the only time, I thought of returning home.
But then, my eyes fell on the surface of the stone, and I saw a way: a glint of light glowing through a crack in the wall. Whispering words only my father and I knew, I wrapped the darkness around me like blanket, and rushed forward to the wall. Peeking through the crack, I saw the light of a lantern burning within, and I quickly produced a small box from Father’s satchel. Whispering a new chant, I opened the box, and a long, blue millipede crawled out. I touched its end, and a line of silk ran from my fingers. Singing softly, I watched the milipede's journey through the crevice to the other side through with its own eyes. Once it had crawled through, I whispered a sharp word, and then I was on the other side of the wall, placing the millipede back in its small container.
A shout from one side caused me to crouch suddenly in fear. A large, booted man was rushing towards me, carrying a large, pointed metal stick. I’d never seen such wealth in my life! Certain that this man was either a king or a god, I panicked. I shrieked a word of magic and threw the millipede, silk and all, into the air. It swelled in the air and burst, its silk forming into long webs throughout the room. I frantically brushed the webs off myself. As I ran,they hardened into strong vines and roots behind me. I bent my head forward and ran harder, my sandaled feet beating down on the stone floors. Several times I crashed into strange things and beasts I'd never seen before. When I could run no more, I collapsed behind a stone and caught my breath.
As my breathing slowed, I closed my eyes and hummed, heightening my awareness of my surroundings. The gods around me were frenzied, hunting relentlessly throughout the castle. My mind raced around the area within the castle, and I discovered several smaller castles within, with sleeping men and women inside. More gods strode in boots and leather atop the castle walls. My heart raced so I thought it would leap out of my chest. I reached into Father’s satchel and placed a piece of Makombo bark in my mouth, chewing slowly to calm myself.
On the other end of the castle, my mind felt the glow of magic and flew to it. An open stand in a marketplace, filled with bottles and boxes. My mind brushed against each one carefully, until finally I found the medicine I needed. It was very close!
Pulling the night around myself once more, I rushed forward. Despite my protection, I was careful, for I walked among gods, and their magic may yet prove stronger than my own. A clamor of bells and shouts began to echo around the castle walls, and the gods multiplied from nothing at all.
I flitted from one small castle to another, keeping to the shadows, where there was plenty of darkness to cover myself, until something in one of the castles caught my eye. Inside, I saw one of the sleeping men rise, stretch, and scratch his stomach. He peered out a window, then reached over and began to adorn the armor, clothing, and weaponry of the other gods.
It was then that I learned, and this knowing filled me with furious, shuddering anger. These were men, not gods! Rage filled me as I peered into his room. Several pairs of shoes, foods, metals, and furniture of wood filled his castle. With this brimming inside of me, I slipped through the window as he walked out.
Inside, my fury made me greedy. I found things inside that would be of untold wealth in my home- bottles, cheese, knives. Gold. I filled Father’s satchel and turned to leave. Then, my eyes fell on the shoes. They were large, sturdy boots made of suede and iron- shoes that could make me wealthy in my village for the rest of my life. Throwing off my wooden sandals, I slid these boots on-- three sizes too large at least. I stuffed the extra space with cloth napkins and shirts. Pausing one last moment, I took one more shirt and pulled it over my bare chest. I felt fierce and vengeful, an angry queen. When I went back to my village, they would know what was being kept from us, and we would return.
Rushes of men past the window brought me back to reality- the danger was still strong outside. I pulled the night back around me and stole through the window. My boots were heavy, and my satchel swayed back and forth like a full belly, but I was careful, and the night was still dark.
Finally, the marketplace stood ahead of me, across a firelit pathway. There could be no night to protect me there. Taking a deep breath, I leaned forward and ran hard, my booted feet clattering along the cobblestones. The market grew in my vision, and I guided myself to where I’d sensed my mother’s medicine.
But then, something stung through me. I looked down to see a long, feathered, wooden bird resting in my stomach. Everything went away from me for a moment, and when it returned, I was on my knees. My wound was great, but Father’s magic was greater still. I reached into my satchel for the powerful magic I knew would bring me to my feet. My hands found cheese. Glass bottles, knives. Gold. My spirit, disgusted with me, left for better places, and I fell to the ground.
It was thus that my father lost Bilhah, his wife, and me, his most beloved daughter, on the same day. And yet, the world went whirling along, and the birds sang their song.